Today I'm showing you the first serious sketch I made in Roswell.
What you're looking at is the wall of my carport. When I moved, I brought two decorative wooden cutouts of Victorian-looking streetlamps that were in my parent's barn. I had originally intended to put them inside my apartment, but decided that they looked better outside.
Anyway, about a month ago I was walking home from work. It had been raining earlier that afternoon, so there was a generous puddle on my carport floor, replete with leaves, feathers, and other debris. By the time I came home, the sun was out, and the ripples of the puddle water and floating detritus were casting these amorphous, wondrously beautiful shadows on my carport wall. I was so struck by the juxtaposition of the intricate streetlamp cutout with these transient shadows that I immediately grabbed my sketchbook, pulled up a chair, and began drawing.
What you're seeing isn't a single moment, the shadows shifted too quickly for me to capture that, but rather a compilation of fleeting shadows drawn over the duration of an hour or so. During that time, I thought about a lot of things, from the significance of water to the west to the history of Victorian decoration to who knows what else, but most importantly, it was a joyous sensation to have a pen in my hand again. After weeks of feeling discombobulated from the move, it was empowering to sketch with determination. Regardless of where I am, when I start drawing consistently again, I know that everything is going to be all right.
I'm thinking about turning this sketch into a series of etchings and aquatints; what are your thoughts?
What you're looking at is the wall of my carport. When I moved, I brought two decorative wooden cutouts of Victorian-looking streetlamps that were in my parent's barn. I had originally intended to put them inside my apartment, but decided that they looked better outside.
Anyway, about a month ago I was walking home from work. It had been raining earlier that afternoon, so there was a generous puddle on my carport floor, replete with leaves, feathers, and other debris. By the time I came home, the sun was out, and the ripples of the puddle water and floating detritus were casting these amorphous, wondrously beautiful shadows on my carport wall. I was so struck by the juxtaposition of the intricate streetlamp cutout with these transient shadows that I immediately grabbed my sketchbook, pulled up a chair, and began drawing.
What you're seeing isn't a single moment, the shadows shifted too quickly for me to capture that, but rather a compilation of fleeting shadows drawn over the duration of an hour or so. During that time, I thought about a lot of things, from the significance of water to the west to the history of Victorian decoration to who knows what else, but most importantly, it was a joyous sensation to have a pen in my hand again. After weeks of feeling discombobulated from the move, it was empowering to sketch with determination. Regardless of where I am, when I start drawing consistently again, I know that everything is going to be all right.
I'm thinking about turning this sketch into a series of etchings and aquatints; what are your thoughts?
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